When Darkness Falls
by Cassie6
Summary: The darkness is safer when you're with a cop... BB
1. Chapter 1

A/N Okay. So. After many fabulous reviews, the general consensus was confusion. I have revamped everything from the beginning making it an easier read. Sorry for the mayhem with this one…

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She swerved into the first available parking spot she saw. Looking past the van from the local television station and the various police vehicles that showered the street with blinking red and blue lights, she spotted him across the park. She grabbed her bag from the back seat, then scooted out from behind the wheel, slammed her car door shut and cut across the grassy area. As her heels sank into the soft ground she thought,

Big Mistake.

She jerked off her dangling earrings and stuffed them into her coat pocket where she felt around for an elastic to tie back the hair she'd left down for that evening's events. Unfortunately, she couldn't do anything about the slinky dress under her coat or the strappy high heeled sandals on her feet. They'd been fine for the benefit, but were sorely out of place at that particular moment.

"Dr. Temperance Brennan, Jeffersonian Institute"", she said flashing her ID.

The cop guarding the perimeter of the crime scene shone a beam of light at the card, then looked her over, letting his gaze linger longer than necessary on the low-cut neckline of her dress.

""If I were you, I'd go back to the party --- unless you have a strong stomach."

"Really…" she drawled, barely containing her mounting anger.

The young police officer wasn't even paying attention to here at this point. Flexing whatever professional muscle he thought he had he shouted,

"Alright, that's enough! Get these people out of here now!" Turning back in her direction he added with a lecherous grin, "You can start with this broad here in the stilts."

Before she could move towards the little bastard to show him what kind of mistake he'd made with that remark, she felt a familiar hand on her shoulder. Moving in front of her Booth got right in the face of the rookie cop.

"I suggest that in the future you treat Dr. Brennan, AKA, my partner with a hell of a lot more respect. Do I make myself clear?"

The low and menacing tone that he used made Brennan grin and shiver at the same time. It had taken her awhile to get to the point of letting him fight some of her battles for her. Not long after they'd made their relationship public, it really hit home as to how loyal and fiercely protective Special Agent Seeley Booth was of the people he loved. Of course, this didn't take into account the many arguments, shouting matches and hurt feelings in respect to the question of Brendan's ability to take care of herself. It took time but Brennan came to the understanding that Booth wasn't questioning her abilities but rather that he loved her and just wanted to show it from time to time.

Grinning at the memory, she focused back on the discomfort of the young cop in time to hear him stammering apologies and uttering numerous promises to never let it happen again. Turning back toward her, Booth closed the distance between them and placed a discreet kiss on her waiting lips.

"Hey beautiful", he murmured.

"Hey yourself."

As they feel into step beside one another, she pretended not to notice as he looked behind them to shoot another dark glare in the direction of the chagrinned cop.

"Obnoxious ass," she sighed.

"Don't let him get to you. All the rookies think they're hot shots right out of the academy. Besides, I think he and I have come to an agreement of sorts." he explained smirking.

"Do you feel better?" she asked with a wry grin.

Taking her hand and squeezing it gently along with a wink and his trademark smile were the only response she got. Holding back her sarcastic remarks she dropped his hand as they came up to the crime scene. The woman was lying on her back, naked. Her neck was gaping open and giant X's had been painted across both of her breasts. Brennan's stomach heaved and she turned away, suddenly so nauseated she could barely stand. Feeling his warm hand on the small of her back she said weakly,

"It must have been something I ate."

"Yeah. I almost did the same thing when I saw the victim." he replied.

Almost. Meaning he hadn't.

Sighing, partly disappointed in herself and more so resentful of Booth, she thought back over the past year. The Jeffersonian's role in FBI cases had evolved and was now focusing more on higher profile cases dealing more with murders in and around the city.. This meant that she now very rarely dealt with cold cases or people who could not be ID'd instead trading in for "fleshies" as Zach and Hodgins so affectionately labeled these unfortunate victims. No matter how many calls she'd been on with Booth, it was not getting easier to see the human side of these crimes, If anything, it was becoming more difficult. Shaking herself back to the task at hand, she felt Booth rubbing slow circles on her lower back.

"Are you all right now?" he asked.

"I will be in a minute. What's the story on the victim?"

"Well, there really isn't one yet."

"Who found the body?"

"Not sure, but whoever it was called the television station. They were here before the cops and FBI which is why everyone in kind of on edge. Seriously compromises the crime scene."

She regained her composure and turned to begin examining the scene as his words played in her head. Turning suddenly, she looked up at him with a knowing gaze.

"Now, now Bones. I'm the one who use's their gut." he said giving her another quick wink and replaying the smile from just a few moments before. She rolled her eyes at him and turned back to her work but try as she might, she could not stop the smile she had been fighting from sneaking it's way to her lips.

It was one thirty in the morning by the time Brennan had finished her preliminary exam of the body and made it back to her apartment. As she'd expected, Booth had done his damnedest to get her away from the lab and back home but her stubbornness had worn him down and pissed him off in the process. He'd dogged her steps from the moment they arrived at the lab begging her to just come home and get a fresh start in the morning. She almost agreed but the nagging feeling in the back of her head telling her that this was too important won out in the end.

She was tired, but the images from the murder scene stayed with her, replaying like a video, as she brushed her teeth, then quietly rummaged through her bureau drawer for something soft and satiny to sleep in. Lingerie was her one indulgence, no doubt a side effect of the couple of years she had to wear nothing but the functional castoffs of others.

Tonight she slipped into a pair of dove grey silk pajamas with a matching robe but even that didn't calm her racing mind. She quietly ducked from the room careful not to wake Booth in the process. Going to the kitchen, she poured herself a glass of wine and carried it with her as roamed from one end of the large apartment to the other. She loved her loft that was located in an older section of DC. Sure the floors creaked and the ancient plumbing rattled, but there was a tremendous amount of character and personality in the place. She was quietly glad when Booth gave up his place to live with her. Her writing would never be the same in any other place simply due to the fact that this loft seemed to breathe stories of the past.

She doubted any of the former inhabitants had ever seen anything like the brutal murder she'd been witness to earlier that evening. Brennan wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly cold and filled with an anxious apprehension. Softly she padded down the hall finally giving into the burning pressure of her eyelids. Climbing into bed, Booth immediately moved closer to her, one hand on her waist. Smiling softly to herself, she knew he wasn't angry with her, frustrated yes, always, but not angry.

Her gaze drifted over his features as her subconscious took over, forming new images out of the gruesome reality of that night. She was trying desperately to close the victim's gaping wound while Booth guiding her shaking hand. They moved slowly and deliberately, as if working on some deranged puzzle; all the pieces were there, but she couldn't make them fit. She was so tired, so very tired. Slowly the images faded and she fell into the old nightmarish dreams that had haunted her for longer than she cared to remember. That old house with the dark, deep staircase. Dread so real, she could taste it.

She jerked awake, the silk pajamas soaked with the cold sweat that still beaded between her breasts and on her brow. The nightmare only crept out from the dark recesses of her mind whenever she was stressed. Looking to Booth, she was relived she hadn't woken him and drew strength from his presence. It was nice to have him there.


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you again for your patience. There is a bit of new stuff in this chapter...

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The next morning found Brennan standing beside a large group of reporters at a news conference held by Cullen to discuss the previous evening's findings. The room overflowed with eager Pulitzer wannabes, but became whisper quiet the moment Cullen approached the podium. Adjusting the microphone, he addressed the group in a smooth, controlled voice, expressing his condolences to the family of the victim who had been identified by Brennan as Carly Winters. He continued with a brief explanation of the murder stating the Carly had been a waitress at Nolita's on K Street and was last seen alive around 8:30pm when she'd left work alone. Her car was found in the parking lot of her apartment building about two blocks away from the restaurant with her purse in the passenger seat, apparently untouched. There was no sign of a struggle. Once he'd concluded, hands shot up into the air causing Cullen to chuckle, then explain he was not answering any questions, he'd leave that to Special Agent Seeley Booth.

"Which means we'll learn absolutely nothing," a reporter close to Brennan groused. "Booth considers reporters disgusting parasites that exist merely to plague him." Unable to help herself, she found that she was leaning toward the man, "Perhaps he has a reason for that opinion."

Despite his embarrassment, the reporter's hand still shot up into the air as Booth opened the floor to questions regarding the investigation. Dressed in his trademark black Armani suit, light blue shirt and black tie Brennan couldn't help but suppress a grin at the thought of him wanting to be with her and only her.

Booth looked over the crowd and felt and annoying dryness at the back of his throat and a tightening in his muscles. As far as he was concerned, news conferences were a waste of time and a damn nuisance. He should be out in the field tracking down the murderer, not standing here trying to appease some clueless reporters.

"Do you think this was a crime of passion?" shouted a voice from the group.

"I don't stick labels on murders. I leave that to you guys." he replied, then nodded at another reporter.

"Do you think the killer knew the victim?"

"It's possible."

"Do you think this is connected to any kind of cult or devil worship?"

"We don't have any information to indicate that." Booth pointed to a skinny guy at the back of the room.

"If it's not some kind of cult murder then how do you account for the marking on the victim's chest?"

"I'm not jumping to conclusions but I'm not ruling anything out at this point either."

"But do you think it could be some kind of ritualistic killing?"

"Anything's possible." How many damned times was he going to have to answer the same question? Tamping down a wave of anger, he glared at the waving hands and caught Brennan's gaze. He calmed instantly when she gave him a quiet smile. Taking a renewed breath, he pointed to the reporter beside her.

"Do you think the killer will kill again?"

Not the question he wanted. Looking back to Brennan, he noticed that she'd paled slightly and looked up at him. Both knew the answer. The murderer was a walking time bomb with a military issued K-Bar knife. If Booth said that aloud however, he'd have an entire city in panic mode.

"I think people should stay alert until this man is behind bars."

All the hands were flying now. Glancing at his watch he noted that'd he'd been answering question for the allotted time. Another fifteen minutes that the killer had been able to walk free.

"This will be the last question." he instructed as he pointed to a young woman in the middle of the room.

One more question, then he and Brennan could cut and run.

After all of the last question had been answered, Brennan noticed that Booth had been the first one out of the room. She knew how much it bothered him to hold these conferences. Having nowhere else to be since they were heading out into the field, Brennan stuck around waiting for him to return. Walking slowly around the room and reviewing the case at hand, her thoughts immediately flew to the sight she was met with the night before. Such a young woman, with her neck slashed and blood smeared across her chest. What would cause someone to do such a thing? Anger? Passion? Or had something in the killer's mind slipped off center? When would he strike again?

Brennan's phone rang startling her enough to jump and bump into the podium she'd come to a stop beside. Checking the number, she noticed it was Angela. She took a deep breath trying to rid her voice of the dark mood she'd slipped into.

"Okay. I owe you.", Brennan started. "I should have come and found you to explain why I was leaving."

"No problem Sweetie. We figured you'd rushed off with Booth. Was it the woman's body that was found in Franklin Park?"

"Yeah."

"I was afraid of that. From what I heard it was pretty gruesome."

"Pretty bad."

"Well, we'll have a drink later and you can tell me all about it."

"You'll need more than one drink if I do that Ang."

"You sound upset."

"No, I'm fine. How'd the rest of the benefit go?"

"Not a lot happened after you left. We danced awhile but the party started to break up about midnight."

Suddenly, Brennan was seeing a very ashen looking, pissed-off Booth re-enter the conference room.

"Listen Ang, I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Sure Sweetie."

Putting her phone in her pocket with one hand, she laid the other on Booth's arm as he reached her. "Was there another murder?"

Shaking his head he held an evidence bag out to her. As she took it, her blood ran cold. On a small piece of purple paper, there was some very neat handwriting.

_I saw your pretty Dr. Brennan last night in the park. She looks beautiful in red._

_Please tell her I'd like her to come to my next party, I'll be looking for her._

Surely this couldn't be from the bastard that had killed and cut up the woman in the park. Tearing her eyes from the filth in her hands to look at Booth, the dark look on his face told her otherwise.

"You think this is from the man who killed Carly Winters." she stated softly.

"Cullen says it's hard to say but that's obviously what someone wants us to think."

"Who else would write something like this Booth?"

Letting out a frustrated breath, he pulled Brennan into his arms holding her as if he never wanted to let go. As fabulous as a hug from Seeley Booth was, it made Brennan scared. She only got scared when he got scared.


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks for all the great reviews!

**nsane1**- Thank you for the suggestions. Hopefully this will be easier to follow especially because, I think this one is going to be a long one.

**Howdylynn**- I'm hoping to make this more realistic and less showy, hence the press conference...

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At Booth's insistence, Brennan took the rest of the day off. Leaving the Bureau, she went home, glanced at the day's mail and made herself a salad which she barely touched. Nothing she did took the murder or the note off her mind. Finally, she snagged a bottle of water from the fridge and moved to tackle cleaning out a huge hall closet, a task she'd put off since she'd moved in. The landlord told her that it was filled with items found in the building that they hadn't had time to get rid of before she'd taken possession. For whatever reason, it never really came up again but today, the thought of escaping into someone else's old junk seemed more of a reprieve than work.

Thunder rumbled in the distance as she opened the door to breathe in the musty odor. There was no telling what skeletons may climb out when she started rummaging through the tattered boxes. Hopefully they wouldn't bear any of her DNA. Wrapping her arms around a large box that sat on the closet floor, she tugged until it was out in the hall. The tape that held it closed was brittle and peeling, it only took a gentle pull to loosen it.

The box was carefully packed, full of sealed plastic pouches. Opening one, yards of forest green satin spilled out and it took her a moment to realize she was holding a dress. Standing, she held the dress to her shoulders to get the full effect. The hemline of the skirt softly brushed the floor, completely hiding her slender legs, but the neckline was plunging. Guessing that it looked to have been from around the 1800's she quickly decided it was in too good a condition to be authentic. More than likely it had been made for one of the many festivals that DC held.

Looking around to make sure she was alone, she discarded her clothing, then slipped the dress over her head letting it fall into place. The full skirt swirled around her legs as she moved to the chevalier mirror in her bedroom to look at her reflection. The late afternoon light gave the dress a shimmering elegance that took her breath away.

"Am I interrupting something?"

The moment ended abruptly as she was startled by a teasing voice from the doorway. Turning she saw her partner leaning against the doorframe trying desperately not to laugh.

"Not at all Sir. Would you care for a mint julep on the veranda?"

He didn't answer, just worked to drag his gaze from the plunging neckline of her dress. Another fraction of an inch lower and that dress would not be long for this world. She slowly made her way to him with a knowing smile and placed a soft kiss on his lips.

"Down Agent Booth. I was just cleaning out that hall closet, found this dress and tried it on."

"Good. I thought you may be expecting Rhett Butler.

Laughing softly she moved across the room to remove the dress. Looking back at him she noticed how tired he looked already and thought maybe Cullen had sent him on his way for the day. "You're home early."

"Not really. I came to pick you up," Confusion clouded her features as she fastened the last few buttons on her shirt and he quickly continued, before she could start barraging him with questions. "I need you to come back to the crime scene with me."

"Why? Did we miss something?"

"I'd rather you didn't have to do this, but I want to retrace exactly where you were at all times last night. Where you parked your car. Which areas of the park you were in, that sort of thing."

"But, I was with you most of the time and we weren't there very long."

"Long enough for the killer to see you, if in fact he was the one to write the note. Who knows, you may have seen him, too, without even realizing it. Listen, Bones, if we go back, then I can get a better feel for where he may have been standing while he was watching you. It might even trigger a memory of something you've forgotten."

"I didn't talk to anyone except cops…"

Booth was quickly losing his patience. What he didn't know was, how this one would affect her, something felt different, off. Fear for her safety, lack of sleep and pure anger caused him to lash out unintentionally. "Look, I know this won't be as fun as playing dress up but we've got a dead woman, a brutal killer on the loose who is fixated on you and no leads. Now are we going to stand here and argue or are you going to come with me?"

Seeing the startled look on her face, he instantly felt like an ass. Moving toward her to apologize, she swept past him exiting the bedroom. "Since you put it that way, I guess I have no choice. Let's go."


	4. Chapter 4

There was no bloody body waiting for them when they reached the park, but Brennan found her surroundings even more ominous and cryptic than she had the night before. Dark clouds, heavy with moisture and bolts of not-too-distant lightening were followed by rumbling claps of thunder. A group of teenagers carrying skateboards stopped to watch as Booth and Brennan stepped from the SUV. Her mind went into overdrive as she tried to picture one of the wielding a knife and cutting Carly Winters' throat. The innocence on their faces made them seem incapable of such brutality.

Booth glanced their way, but then dismissed them as if they were inconsequential. "It's going to pour soon, lets get started."

"What do you want to know?"

"Where did you park your car last night?"

"Down the block, near that big oak." She point to a tree whose branches canopied the half of the street.

He didn't bother waiting for her, just strode off in that direction, his gaze scanning the area. Once under the tree, he glanced up into the branches above as if he half expected the killer to be sitting there, waiting. "Was there anyone standing nearby when you got out of your car?" he asked when she finally caught up to him.

"Booth, there were groups of onlookers everywhere. I didn't notice anyone in particular."

"Did anyone speak to you?"

"Not then."

Across the street from the park were small houses, mostly brick fronts with touches of stucco. A few had porches. A middle-aged man sat in a porch swing in the house directly across from them, watching as he gently swayed back and forth. It was a natural thing for him to do, but his gaze still made Brennan uneasy. She softly spoke he concerns, "Do you think the killer was watching me even before I entered the park?"

"Possibly."

"From one of the houses?"

"Bones, he could have been watching you from any number of places. A house. Sitting in a parked car. Crouched behind someone's bushes. Most likely he was just mingling with the other bystanders."

And if the guy had been there last night, he could be out there now. She could all but see his eyes. They'd be dark, piercing, threatening. "Do we have to go back into the park?" she asked anxious to get in the car and go home.

Sensing her discomfort, Booth walked over to her and placed a kiss on her forehead while he rubbed his hands up and down her crossed arms. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to scare you, but it would help. Just retrace your steps and I'll be right with you."

They walked back to the gate as another bolt of lightening hit, this one a little too close for comfort. Tangling her fingers with his, Brennan headed directly for the area the body was found. "I followed the lights from the TV crews which led me to my encounter with Dudley Do-Right."

Chuckling softly, Booth let go of her hand and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "Was that a joke Bones?"

Standing quietly with her, he kicked at a small pebble sending it flying past the yellow crime scene tape and directly into the area the body had been found. Bloodstains were still visible, thought they'd probably fade after the rain. The images in both of their minds were still as clear as if Carly Winters had still been lying right in front of them. Shuddering slightly, she pulled away from him and started to walk away.

Booth took her hand again. "Steady now. We're almost done."

"Seeley? Do you ever get desensitized to murder?"

"No. If I did, I'd get out of the business."

It wasn't the first time she'd asked him this type of question. She liked hearing the small admissions that made him human, it made her calmer. "Have you ever been on a case where the killer contacted someone he'd seen at the crime scene?"

"No, but it's not unheard of. I remember reading about one case on the West Coast a couple of years ago. Serial killer called a female news anchor before every crime was committed."

"What happened?"

He shook his head and refused to meet her eyes. "I don't remember."

Not buying that for a second, she stepped in front of him, forcing him to look at her. "He killed her, didn't he."

For the second time in as many days he pulled her into his arms all but squeezing the life from her. He softly whispered into her hair, "Nothing's going to happen to you Sweetheart. We won't let you get drawn into this bastard's sick games."

The first drop of rain fell, quickly followed by another. They splattered on his nose and started running down his cheeks. Grabbing her hand, they both started running toward the SUV. By the time they'd reached it, their clothes were soaked through and the water from their hair was slowly trickling down the backs of their necks. Booth started the engine and turned on the heater, but then sat for a moment before putting the SUV into gear. Brennan had a feeling there was something more he wanted to say, but if there was, he changed his mind.


	5. Chapter 5

Sorry this one is so late. Many thanks to **angel6 aka trinigyal** and **I hart booth** for being the only ones to review since chapter 2... ;)

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"I talked to every neighbour on the block," Matt said, sliding his notes across Booth's desk. "Everyone claims not to have seen a thing until the television crews started to arrive."

Booth picked up the notes that the young agent had made, reared back in his chair and propped his feet up on his desk. Matt Donnelly was a newer junior agent who had proved himself invaluable to Booth in the three short month since he'd arrived at the bureau. For fear of becoming nostalgic, Booth would probably be inclined to say that the kid reminded him of himself when he was young, perhaps that is why they fell into an easy friendship.

"Did you check to see if anyone in the immediate area has a record?" Booth asked, shaking himself from his musings.

"All the adults are clean as a whistle. One of the teenagers on the block has a battery charge against him."

"Details?"

"Ryan Anderson. Age seventeen -- sixteen when the charges were filed. Attacked his stepfather with a baseball bat when he found him fondling his little sister. Stepfather denied it. Kid got off with a warning, so I'm guessing the judge believed him, instead of the old man."

"Where's the stepfather now?"

"Out of the picture. Mother divorced him and has no idea where he's living, but is fairly sure it's nowhere near here."

"Any known sex offenders in the area?"

"None that showed up on our records."

"What about the search around the crime area?"

"We bagged some items. A couple of cigarette butts, an old sock, some chewing gum, a beer bottle, that kind of stuff."

"Make sure that they get to Jack at the Medico-Legal lab, see if he can get a DNA reading off of any of them."

"You got it. Anything else you need before I knock off for the day?"

Booth glanced at his watch. Quarter past six. Knock off hour for the day shift. There used to be a time when an agent on a murder case wouldn't have bothered to look at the clock, hell, he and Brennan were still like that. Those kind of agents were old school. Today, most agents had lives. They worked their shifts and that was it. They were probably better off for it but, then again so were the criminals.

"Guess that's it," Booth said. "Got a big night planned?"

"A hot date with a gorgeous red head who works with your doctor lady. What about you?"

"I'm gonna cut out now as well, Brennan and I need a quiet night."

They both knew that wouldn't happen. Between Brennan and Booth, they'd be lucky to eat and then get a few hours sleep after turning what information they had on the case inside out and back again. Booth dropped the notes on the desk as Matt left, then walked to the window and stared at the rain. It wasn't falling as hard as it had been when he and Brennan had gotten caught in it, but it was steady.

Temperance Brennan.

Standing at the window, staring at the rain all he could think about was how she looked soaked to the skin. He knew that she could still affect him in ways he had yet to understand. It wasn't simple, plain old-fashioned lust, though there was no denying their compatibility in that direction. Earlier that day driving her home from the park, she'd looked like a tiny, drenched, stringy haired waif and that frustrated him to no end. Crossing the room to his desk he picked up a picture he had taken of her and Parker. Tracing her laughing eyes, and beautiful smile he wondered what would happed if he made one mistake and let the killer sneak into their lives. The kind of mistake that Carly Winters had made. Had she trusted a stranger? D.C. was the kind of place where that could easily happen. Or was it someone Carly knew and trusted? A betrayed lover? Booth's gut feeling was that the killer had picked Carly randomly or from some search criteria only the killer understood. He'd stripped her naked , but there were no signs of sexual assault.

Still, Booth was positive the killer was male. The MO wasn't that of a woman. The knife, the nudity, even the marks on the breasts all indicated that the killer was a guy, either one strong enough to overpower the victim or charming enough to have convinced her to go with him willingly. And unless Booth had this all wrong, the guy wasn't done here yet by any means which meant he wasn't done with Brennan.


	6. Chapter 6

Thank you to all of you who took the time to read this!!! I am really glad that you all like it simply because I really wanted to continue it and was a little unsure if I should at this point last week...

I hope you enjoy this chapter and to keep you up to date, I'm looking to have new chapters out once a week.

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Brennan breathed a sigh of relief as she pulled her car into it's parking space and killed the engine. It had been a long day and she wanted nothing more than to slip into some cozy pajamas, pour a glass of wine and catch up on some reading. Her building sat on the other side of the parking lot beside an old carriage house. The walk from her car to the main door was annoying when the weather was cold or rainy but tonight, it was clear and the cool clean air felt good in her lungs.

Only, tonight the area surrounding the main door was darker than usual. Much darker. For some reason, neither of the outdoor lights were burning, though they were on a timer and should have switched on at dusk. It was probably a temporary power outage that had them off schedule. Fortunately, she had a small flashlight on her key chain which gave enough light so she'd at least be able to fit the key into the lock. As she moved toward the door, something moved in the bushes behind her. Her heart slammed against her chest, but when she turned, she saw that it was only a cat she'd startled from the bushes. Brennan had never been one to back down from a fight, but the constant thought of this murderer had her rattled. She'd learned from past experiences that underestimating these lunatics only got her into trouble and she wasn't willing to do that to Booth anymore.

Reaching the door, she noticed a small package propped up against it. She stopped in her tracks. The package was probably perfectly harmless, but no one ever left packages outside. What if it had been delivered by the same man who'd left the note on her windshield? He knew what kind of car she drove. Maybe he also knew where she lived. He could be here now, lurking somewhere in the shadows and watching her the way he'd obviously watched her that night in the park. She couldn't see him but it was almost as if she could feel him. Her heart was pounding so loudly that if he was anywhere near, he could surely hear it. Probably even smell the fear. A killer. And her only defense against him and his knife were her skills and the keys that had begun to shake in her hand.

And there was really nowhere to run.

Brennan made a dash for the door. So far, so good. But her hands were shaking so badly that she had to try twice to get the key into the lock while holding the flashlight for the maximum amount of light. Finally she was able to turn it. The door swung open and she rushed inside, giving the package a small kick along the way so that it slid across the tiled floor of the foyer. Once inside, she fell back against the door causing it to slam shut. Quickly she retrieved her mail, picked up the unassuming package and all but ran for the security of her apartment. After throwing the deadbolt on the door and emptying her hands onto the island the separated the kitchen from the living room, she moved to the sink and filled a glass with tap water, letting the cool stream trickle over her fingers and hands. Turning back into the room, she leaned against the counter and debated whether or not to open the little white box that mocked her from across the space. Procrastinating, she drank every last drop from the glass, the finally stopped and crossed the room to pick up the box.

It weighed only a few ounces. Nothing too dangerous could come in a package that small. Slowly, she lifted the lid and peeked inside. A cookie. A damn heart-shaped cookie. And she'd practically had a coronary over it. Booth had definitely ruined her for work on the crime beat. She almost laughed aloud as she took the cookie out of the box, but the sound caught in her throat. Beneath the cookie was a note on the same sort of paper that had been given to Booth. The cookie slipped from her hand and fell to the cool ceramic floor, crumbling into a thousand pieces. Fishing a stray latex glove from her pants pocket, she picked up the note, holding it between the folds of the glove with two shaking fingers.

_Hello, my beautiful Temperance. I've been watching you wracking _

_your pretty little head everyday just thinking about me. _

_Know that __I am thinking of you as well…_

"Damn him." She pushed the toe of her boot into the cookie crumbs as if she was putting out a lit cigarette, the way she'd like to grind his head. How dare he try to suck her into his twisted life? She couldn't let him turn her into a shivering mass of nerves. She'd already spent too much of her life like that, fighting the demons that lived in her nightmares, remnants of a life she barely remembered and had fought too hard to overcome.


	7. Chapter 7

Booth read the note for the second time. He'd expected it, just hadn't known when it would barge into their lives.

"What do you think?" Brennan asked as he threw the evidence bag onto the counter and then began pacing with his hands on his hips.

"I think he's one sick bastard."

"But do you think the note is from the man who killed Carly Winters, or just some kook seeking attention?"

"There's no way to be sure, but either way, we have to assume he's dangerous."

"Now, why doesn't that make me feel better?"

"Smart ass."

"So what do you suggest Agent Booth?" Brennan asked as she regarded him with a sly grin on her lips, happy that she could diffuse the situation, if only for a moment.

Booth chuckled as he watched her pad over to the sofa, sit down and curl her bare feet up under her. She'd changed into some teal Lululemon pants and a cream tank top covered by a black hoodie. With her long hair pulled up into a ponytail, he could not believe how vulnerable and young she looked. A thought crossed his mind making him wonder if he had anything to do with changing her all-go-no-stop-big-balls Temperance Brennan attitude. Sobering immediately, he sat beside her as she shifted to face him, sitting sideways on the sofa, legs crossed in front of her. Taking her right hand in both of his, he voiced an opinion that could possible get him hurt.

"You could get the hell out of Dodge. Go somewhere this asshole can't find you and stay there until he's caught."

"I can't do that."

"Sure you can. All you have to do is leave this case with me and I'll have you home in no time."

Gently removing her hand from his, she left the sofa quietly crossing the room to the window.

"I know what you are thinking Booth. You want to protect me, and deep down, I don't want to stop you but I can't be treated like fine porcelain all the time. You also need me on this case. I'm not bragging about my skills in the least but you sure as hell should be the last person to forget how well we work together."

"You have it all wrong Bones, this isn't about me, it's about you. There are plenty of people who we work with that can help me get this done that aren't being stalked by a lunatic."

Frustration etched into the lines of her face, she turned to face him, arms crossed over her chest.

"Running away is not an option. In the first place, the Jeffersonian cannot spare me and neither can the FBI. Secondly, if I leave, who's to say that this man won't focus his sick attentions on someone else, say like, Angela?"

He couldn't argue that but his frustration rose anyway. Standing he crossed the room to her, hands on hips.

"So what's your solution Temperance? Just go about your business and wait for the next gift, or note, or whatever else he conjures up in his degenerate mind?"

"No." She met his gaze dead-on. "He obviously wants my attention so we give it to him. If I could talk with his somehow, we could set a trap for him."

Or she could just commit suicide, Booth thought as he turned on his heel with a growl, plowing his hand through his hair.

"You'd be playing the killer's game. You think you can get inside his head, but he'll get inside yours. Do I need to remind you of Epps?"

"I'm not a fool Booth. I won't be manipulated."

"You already have been Bones."

Booth's cell phone chose that moment to ring irritating him beyond belief. Snatching it up off the coffee table he barked a greeting.

"What."

"Booth! What the hell crawled up your ass?" Cullen replied. "Just heard from the local TV station. They got another call."

"A body?"

"Caller didn't say. Just gave specifics as to where they should go."

Muttering some curses that would have turned his mother's hair blue, Booth asked for the details.

" Meridian Hill Park. It's just off Connecticut Ave, in the Woodley Park area. That's where those historic buildings are located."

Meridian Hill Park. Three blocks from where he was sitting right now.

"I'll be there in five minutes. Call Matt. I want him there too. Brennan's with me, we'll call Zack on the way."

When he broke the connection, Brennan was standing right behind him.

"He did it again, didn't he."

"Cullen's not sure. We have to go."

Grabbing for a pair of running shoes and lacing them up, she picked up her field kit and followed him out the door.


End file.
